


A Taste Is Not Enough

by silverbook



Series: A Taste Is Not Enough [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood-drinking etc, Gen, HP: EWE, Harry and Malfoy as Auror partners, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Pre-Slash, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8280583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverbook/pseuds/silverbook
Summary: Harry and Malfoy had been Auror partners for 4 months before Harry first saw Malfoy drink blood in front of him.





	1. a taste

Harry and Malfoy had been Auror partners for 4 months before Harry first saw Malfoy drink blood in front of him. 

He’d known Malfoy had been Turned, of course; everyone in the Auror Department knew, as well as many others in the Ministry: had been informed when he’d come to work there. But there was such a difference between _knowing_ such a thing, and _seeing_ it Harry suddenly realised.

They’d been attempting to capture a pair of criminals they’d followed to an abandoned warehouse - and why did criminals always choose abandoned warehouses to hang out in, Harry wondered absently as he dodged a jet of red light flying at his shoulder- when the left criminal, a short stocky man who’d been capering around; almost relishing the chance to exchange fire with Aurors, had been hit on the arm by a reflected hex from his companion, which sliced his arm open neatly. 

And then Malfoy had been there, appearing beside the man and bending his head, with its now suddenly _visible_ fangs sinking into the man’s wound and… Harry was frozen, as was the forgotten companion, as Malfoy drank from the short man who didn’t seem to know what was happening, his eyes sliding out of focus almost in slow motion. 

It was strangely…compelling. Harry blinked, and then out of the corner of his eye, saw the criminal on his right begin to raise his wand and point it at Malfoy, his face twisted in a horrified grimace. He reacted without thought and quickly Stunned the man. He then turned his attention back to Malfoy and the steadily paler growing man he was drinking from. He raised his own wand again, and pointed it in their direction.

“Malfoy.” He called firmly, taking a step forwards, “Stop.”

There was no discernable reaction from the blonde man, so he took another step and said louder, “Malfoy!”

The head jerked slightly, and then slowly pulled away and turned to face him. Harry bit his lip to keep his reaction in check; Malfoy’s lips were bright red, his cheeks flushed and his pupils slightly dilated, he was unrecognisable. 

“Malfoy, I need you to step away from him.” He said calmly, trying to stop his wand hand from visibly shaking. Malfoy stared at him, then realisation of what he was doing seemed to hit him all at once, and he swallowed hard, nodding shakily and stumbling away from his victim, who was swaying on his feet and still unfocused. Harry, keeping a wary eye on Malfoy, hurried toward him, and after supporting him down to the ground, cast some basic field diagnostic charms, and healed the wound temporarily to the best of his abilities. He then bound him along with his companion, and returned his full attention back to Malfoy.

He had sunk down onto the ground with his head in his hands. Harry approached him cautiously and called his name. Malfoy shuddered and said without looking up at him: “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean…” his voice cracked, and he took a deep breath before saying in a calmer voice, “I’ll come quietly, Potter, don’t worry. I won’t –“ he broke off and clenched his hands into his dishevelled hair. 

“Malfoy, what are you talking about?”

Malfoy looked up, eyes damp, “The fact that you are about to arrest me for assault, not to mention breaking the code for Restriction and Control of Sub-Human Wizards?”

“What?” Harry frowned, “I don’t understand.”

“I attacked a wizard, Potter. I drank their blood! Or do you not remember the last five minutes? Having a nice daydream inside your head instead?” He seemed to regret his outburst as soon as the words left his mouth, and bit his lip as Harry snapped back, 

“Yes, I did happen to be watching, Malfoy!”

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, “Look. Malfoy. I know that you don’t go around _biting_ random people all the time-“

“And how would you know?” Malfoy shot back, unthinkingly, and quickly scrambled to take the words back, “I don’t! I just-“

Harry held up a hand to stop him, “I know. My point is; there must have been a reason for you to do…that.” He crouched down beside Malfoy and looked at him, “So?”

“So what?”

“So, is there a reason?”

“I- I haven’t received my delivery of blood for this week yet.” Malfoy was starting to regain some of his normal composure, but hadn't yet straightened from his huddle on the ground.

Harry nodded, “I see, so you haven’t eaten since?”

“Monday.”

“And it’s Thursday. Does this happen often?”

“Drinking from random people?”

“No, well, yes, but really I mean your delivery not arriving on time.”

Malfoy cautiously shifted to a more comfortable position, dropping his knees down, “It’s happened a few times, but I’ve never drunk from anyone before; I think it was the blood- that he got cut.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Harry smiled. He stood up, and offered his hand to Malfoy, who stared cautiously at it before accepting it to lift himself up.

“Will you help me take these two to the Ministry?” Harry asked, moving over to the two bodies and starting to levitate one up. He looked round at Malfoy who was still standing in the same place, arms wrapped protectively around his chest.

“You’re not going to arrest me?”

“What for?” 

“Potter.”

“Draco, it wasn’t your fault and once you realised what was happening you stopped right away. I don’t see any reason to report it, as I doubt it will happen again, and you didn’t do it deliberately.” 

“But, _Harry_ , what if it does happen again; someone gets cut, or injured in front of me when I haven’t eaten, and I could-“, Malfoy protested.

“Well, we’ll just have to sort out this delivery problem you seem to be having, won’t we?”  
__

Handing over their two captives to the Holding Cell Aurors had been a relatively painless operation. Harry and Malfoy had been tracking these two for over a month now, and had headed off this morning in expectation of finally encountering them, so they had been expected. They were low level illegal items trafficking operatives, but they were part of a wider net of criminals that they were hoping to crack open. Black market trafficking was not necessarily on their list of usual jobs; normally Auror pairs such as themselves were assigned to long-term cases, and to investigation, or occasionally to assist with first response. However, Harry and Malfoy had been assigned a standard track and capture on one of their current prisoner’s associates as their first assignment as partners in order to determine how well they worked together. Not only had they completed the assignment smoothly and effectively, they had also stumbled across hints of a drug trafficking ring hidden within the Black Market. This had been assigned to them as their main case ever since. 

The follow-up paperwork the next day would not be so painless, nor would their discussion about the direction they would next take now they had captured these two. But that was tomorrow- for now they had been allowed to head off early once they had been checked over for injuries. Harry was fully planning on taking the opportunity to have a nice relaxing evening at home, and after a long hot shower, collapsed on his couch for a rest, before tackling dinner.

However, he found his planned relaxation disrupted when his mind kept circling back to this afternoon’s events. It changed nothing, he decided. He had known Malfoy was a vampire when he started working with him, and nothing should change just because he had seen proof of this for himself. That flash of fang had been alarming, he could admit, but that was a natural reaction, wasn’t it? Prey to predator sort of thing. After all Vampires were predators really when it came down to it. 

The last decade or so, had seen a great movement and progress in their rights, and a recognition that they retained human empathy, and cognitive reasoning, after Turning. In turn, Vampires had come to recognise the benefits of working with the Ministry, and bringing their activities into the light. The War had been a turning point for Vampire rights when those not allied with Voldemort had fought with the Wizards against him.  
Thus registered vampires were supplied with blood, under the understanding that they would not feed without consent, and consent could only be sought under specific circumstances. Councils had been formed to seek out rogue vampires and apply justice. It was one of these councils that had taken in Malfoy when he had been bitten and Turned by a rogue vampire, when he had been travelling overseas with Zabini and Parkinson, to escape the Post-War atmosphere in Britain, and aftermath of the Trials.

Harry had been lectured various times on the subject by Hermione, as many of the new laws had gone through or were being created during her first year of Magical Law, and then again when Ginny had come back from visiting Bill in her year of travel after Hogwarts, and went into Magical Creature and Being Representation. Malfoy was a good partner, and their years of animosity had turned out to serve them well in this line of work, as they knew how each other reacted in combat situations. He had struggled to find another partner to work with after Ron had left, and he knew Malfoy had had similar struggles for other reasons. Harry had grown to like working with him, and found he trusted him to have his back in the field, but also enjoyed his acerbic comments and asides, the bite of which had softened somewhat since his school years.

There was nothing to worry about, apart from this issue with the blood supply. Harry frowned as he forced himself off the couch and into the kitchen to begin scrounging up some dinner for himself. That was worrying. Not because of Malfoy losing control. Though, yes, that was something to keep an eye on as well, but because of the possible reasons behind it. He hated to think this might be a deliberate act, but he couldn’t dismiss the fact that it was a likely possibility. Malfoy had any number of enemies, as did his family, and that wasn’t counting those who disagreed with the Ministry hiring vampires, or were just prejudiced against them in general. Tampering with his blood supply would be an easy way to get him to bite someone, and then it was just a matter of sitting back and watching the British Council deal with him. They hadn’t counted on Harry though, he thought grimily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism and feedback welcome. Be gentle, please :) 
> 
> This one has been in the works for a very long time, but only in my head. It has started to come out in writing this year.


	2. to discuss

The next morning Harry stepped out of the elevator and into the Auror Offices, a coffee he picked up for himself on his way to work in one hand. In the other he carried another for his partner. As he moved through the outer offices, he nodded cheerfully to various colleagues in passing, and poked his head into the break room to greet those inside. Malfoy and he had their own office, not a cubicle like those he passed on his way. As they, and pairs like them, took on long investigative cases, the details of which were not always made general knowledge to all Aurors, a private office was necessary, and one of the perks. Possibly it was also compensation for their long hours and overtime when they were on a case, Harry thought. 

He reached their door and pushed inside. As usual the windows were shuttered and the office only lit by globes: there were spells and various protections Malfoy could put in place to protect himself from the sun, but he still didn’t like to remain in it if he didn’t have to. After some initial bickering, more out of habit than anything, Harry had conceded. Though private, their office was not in any way big, with just enough room to fit both of their desks in at right angles, and a small corner containing their pin board and filing cabinet. The filing cabinet had been brought in by Malfoy: both Harry and Ron had subscribed to the desk stack filing system, but Harry had to admit the filing cabinet had streamlined finding things, and he was beginning to come around to its uses, though never in Malfoy’s hearing. 

“One black coffee. I accept repayment in truffles.” He placed the cup down on Malfoy’s desk, carefully placing it on the coaster lest he get scolded, again. Malfoy seemed to have regained his usual composure overnight. When they had brought the prisoners into the Ministry yesterday, he had put on a veneer for those around him, but Harry had spent enough time working with him to see through to how much the events had shaken him. 

“You are not getting within breathing distance of my truffles,” Malfoy reached for the cup and then paused, “This is definitely mine? You haven’t confused them again?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “One time, Malfoy.”

“I will never erase that taste from my mind. I don’t understand how you can drink that sugary horror.” Malfoy picked up the cup and took a cautious sip, and then relaxed and sat back.

“Hey, don't insult my coffee.”

“Potter, you don't drink coffee, you drink some vile concoction of syrup and sugar. I can insult your beverage choices all I wish and be perfectly justified.”

“Refusing to let me make any coffee runs for a month was a bit over the top.” Harry went over to his desk, and sat, the familiar bickering relaxing him. He had been slightly worried things would have changed after yesterday, but it seemed he had been worried for nothing.

“Perfectly justified.”

“You do realise it just meant that I didn’t have to pay for my coffee for a month?” 

“A small price to pay.”

“Did you pick up the report from the Holding Cell when you came in?” Harry asked, setting his coffee down.

“Of course. A copy is on your desk: there is not much there. Neither of them had much in the way of personal belongings on them besides their wands. Examination of the last spells they cast was not much use either, as most of those were from our capture of them.”

Harry flicked through the report to the page detailing the medical examination both the men would have gone through upon admittance.

“Looks like the blood loss didn't register as anything besides from the hex. Speaking of that…”

Malfoy looked at him sharply, “You want to discuss this here? We are at work, Potter.”

“We don’t see each other outside of work.” Harry smiled as Malfoy scowled. 

“I still don’t think it would be wise to discuss it here. If you insist, we can talk over lunch. Outside.”

Malfoy returned to his paperwork, the subject clearly dropped.

“Lunch then.” Harry got back up and crossed to their pin board, placing the report next to the photos of the two men. Alistair McMillen and Cameron Huxley, low level illegal items trafficking operatives, smugglers essentially, for the Black Market. However, after tracking their movements over the last 2 months, and following the intel they had received, they were confident that these two were also part of the drug ring concealed within the Black Market. Hopefully they would be able to get enough names or leads from them in order to identify and arrest those running the ring, and as many of those working in it as possible.

“So, what’s our plan of attack?”

__

Harry sat down on the cheap, white plastic chair opposite Malfoy after collecting their lunch orders. He was a little surprised at Malfoy’s choice of table: it was an overcast day, or they wouldn’t have been able to sit outside at all. Maybe he did miss the outdoors sometimes, despite his apparent contempt for the sun. He had always been pale though, even when at Hogwarts, Harry thought, amused. Casting a Muffliato discreetly, he settled back and looked at Malfoy expectantly over his lunch.

“You haven't been receiving your deliveries?”

He got straight to the point, he wasn’t one to beat around the bush, and if he let him Malfoy would just continue to wriggle around the issue.

“Not exactly,” Malfoy began reluctantly, setting his sandwich back onto the plate, “About 2 months ago they started to periodically arrive late. I sent an owl when the first one was late, and got a generic reply back saying that they _‘cannot always guarantee that their deliveries will always arrive exactly on time due to weather, the nature of owls, other orders etc.’_ It was most likely a stock letter from the overarching company.”

Harry frowned, “The overarching company?”

“After the Treaty was drawn up, the Ministry offered a contract for the supply to an established delivery company. They still deal with many other types of deliveries, not just this,” Malfoy explained, “Then it started to happen more regularly, and became later and later. Two weeks ago it didn't arrive at all.”

“And you’ve contacted the company again?”

“Naturally, I sent in more letters, received no reply, or merely the stock letter again. I sent a letter to the Ministry department last week, but also haven’t received a reply.” Malfoy’s frustration was plain.

“You can’t visit the company office and follow it up?” Harry inquired.

“No, I don’t even know the name of the company. It’s part of the contract that was drawn up at the start. Some of the employees were not happy with the company accepting the contract, so a lot of protections and regulations were put in place for them, to prevent them from quitting. One of those is that the names of the company and the employees are not made known to the clients, i.e. the vampires.” He said with a wry smile.

Harry regarded him in disbelief and faint horror, “That’s…,” he trailed off. Aside from the window issue, they had never really discussed Malfoy’s condition, and didn't that just make it sound like an illness, Harry realised. Malfoy wasn’t ill, he didn't have a disease, he just wasn’t human anymore, and had a different set of living requirements. Harry felt slightly ashamed that he hadn’t learnt all he could, but Malfoy had always seemed uncomfortable whenever the topic was brought up so Harry hadn't wanted to- no, that wasn’t an excuse.

“So it’s someone from within the company, you think?” He brushed that issue aside to deal with later.

“Most probably. The company is not allowed to disclose the names or addresses of the vampires they deliver to. The Council insisted on similar protections for us, and got quite a few. And it would be difficult to tamper with the deliveries from outside the company, or without the information about how it is run.”

“It can’t be another vampire? Or someone who was fired or quit?”

“Motive-wise it could well be another vampire, but with all the regulations they would be unable to get access to anything that would let them interfere. A former employee could be a possibility.”

“Can you go directly to the Council?”

“I don’t have any proof that someone is tampering with it.” He pointed out stiffly.

“But it is still an issue for the Council if you are not getting it on time, even if it’s not foul play, isn't it?” Why didn’t Malfoy want to go to the Council? Surely that would be the best place to sort this out, Harry thought. 

“I don’t want to cause a commotion.”

“Malfoy. This is endangering your health, and-” he stopped abruptly, and tried to think of a less crude way to phrase it.

“And other people, yes, yes, I am aware,” Malfoy said bluntly, “I don’t want to be the Malfoy scion, complaining and stirring up trouble.”

Harry dropped the point for the time being, as he could see he wouldn’t get anywhere at present. Malfoy perhaps had a point. The Ministry was still very-anti Ex-Death Eater and anyone who had been affiliated with them. Which was probably why Malfoy’s complaint to the Ministry department hadn't gone anywhere. Oh, it would get dealt with- they couldn't shirk on their parts of the contract, but they would hold it up with bureaucracy and red tape for as long as they could get away with. Which wasn’t going to be in any time to help Malfoy. 

How long could he go without blood, or a regular dose, anyway? Harry realised he didn’t know. Surely this was something he should know, even just as from the point of view that Harry was his partner. He should know all he could about possible weaknesses and limitations, as well as strengths and abilities that Harry didn't have. It would be stupid not to be as informed as he could, as well as impolite. He would have to find out from Malfoy if he could, or maybe Ginny would be better, so he wouldn't embarrass himself. In fact…

“Maybe Ginny could help? She works in Magical Creature and Being Representation, at Atherby’s. Maybe she might have some information we can use. Or a lead we can follow?” he offered, finishing his lunch.

“The Weaselette?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Don’t call her that,” he remarked half-heartedly- he knew Malfoy didn’t mean anything by it, “Look, you don’t want to go to the Council just yet, and we’re too busy at the moment with this case to investigate it ourselves, and it’s only going to get worse now we have McMillen and Huxley in custody. Things are really going to start to ramp up. Let’s ask Ginny to look into it for us, and see if anyone else has reported similar problems, or if she knows anything else about the company. Then you go to the Council either with evidence or not. Okay?”

Malfoy nodded sharply, “Fine. You’ll contact her?”

“I meet her tomorrow for lunch. Don’t worry, I’ll be discreet. Are you going to finish that?” Harry motioned towards Malfoy’s remaining half of his sandwich. He pushed it over to Harry’s side of the table with a wry smile.

“It’s all yours, Potter. And…thank you.”

“It’s no problem. We’re friends, aren’t we? Partners. We look out for each other.”

“Yes. Well.” Malfoy stood up, and brushed off his robes, “We should get back to the office. Those interrogation notes aren't going to write themselves.”

He strode off briskly. Harry smiled and grabbed the sandwich as he stood to follow him back to the Ministry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all those who have subscribed already. As always, constructive criticism and feedback welcome.


	3. to proffer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation escalates as Malfoy grows weaker, and Harry gets more and more worried.

Draco stepped out of the Floo into his apartment, casting a Soot-Removal Charm on his Auror robes before he hung them up. It had been an interesting 48 hours to say the least. In the 4 months he had worked with Potter as his partner, he had shown no signs of prejudice or even uneasiness at his new limitations and abilities, or his new non-human status. It certainly wasn’t in character for him to be discriminatory, Malfoy knew, or for him to be aware of potential danger around him. However, he had still found himself surprised that Harry had not turned him in, or reported him after the _incident_ the other day. He didn't like being surprised, even if it happened to be a favourable outcome.

He stepped into the kitchen to make himself dinner; he didn't require food, but was able to ingest it and still found himself hanging on to these remnants of his old life. It was comforting to sit down to a well-prepared meal. In fact, a lot of vampires enjoyed their food, and usually became rather pedantic about the quality of what they ate, other than blood. Ironically he hadn't known how to cook before he had been Turned, but had taken lessons afterwards, partly as a way to occupy himself as he learnt control.

The atmosphere post-War in Britain had not been something that he had enjoyed, deserved or not. Along with Pansy and Blaise he had embarked on a trip around Europe to get away from it. In the beginning it had been pure escapism from the dark glances, insults, threats, and sometimes attacks, around every corner, but as they had travelled from place to place, and seen how far the devastation had ranged, the scope of what they had gotten themselves into had sunk in, far more effectively than even the Trials had managed to do. Their escapist trip had gradually turned an attempt at redemption and penance as they lent their hands and skills to the repair efforts in various countries. 

It was in France, where he was heading out late from a long day helping to sort through and salvage the paper records of a local council office retrieved from the rubble of the building, that his life changed. He had been dragged off the street and bitten by a rogue vampire fleeing the justice of the French Council. Whether the vampire had intended to turn him, perhaps as a distraction for the Council, or as a potential ally, or whether he was meant to be merely sustenance was never discovered. Representatives arrived too late for him, but in time to corner the rogue vampire, who suffered a fatal blow in the ensuing fight. 

The Council took him in and looked after him during his change, and he stayed in France for nearly a year as they taught him control over his new abilities, and the urge to feed. The first thing he remembered after waking that first time was seeing Pansy and Blaise ungracefully slumped together in a corner of the unfamiliar room. He didn’t remember the second thing per say, only the wave of all his new senses rushing in on him all at once: the brightness of the light, the magnified feel of the sheets on the bed he lay on, the slow heartbeats of sleep speeding into too fast heartbeats, the sharp spicy smell he later identified as the smell of blood along with the faint peppermint that indicated magic, mixed with the musty smell and taste of old rooms, the sudden overwhelming jabbering of voices around him and running footsteps, the magnified rustling of clothes, and the faint sobbing that called to him as familiar. 

He still remembered the growing emptiness within him, currently echoed in the present moment, and how he had hungered for something more than food. His dinner suddenly seemed unappetising and he abandoned it on the table. The small amount he had taken from Alistair McMillen had lost its effect rapidly over the last 24 hours, and the hunger was returning, gnawing at something inside him, somehow more mental than physical. He couldn’t have managed to imbibe any more than 100ml. A mere drop in the ocean of the 600ml per week he required for minimum functionality, and barely scraping the sides of the 1L he was used to: he was supposed to receive 3 bags of approx. 300ml per week as agreed upon during the Treaty. However, if he hadn't essentially been on a starvation diet for the last month, give or take, that small drink might have sustained him a few more hours. Or if he was an older Vampire. In the last five weeks he had received his full intake only once, had split one week across two another time. In total he had probably only drunk half his normal intake, if that. He was dangerously undernourished, and with that the grip he had on his control was starting to slip, as evidenced by the other day. 

Blaise and Pansy had stayed with him for that first month in France, when he was still struggling to adjust to his new senses and situation. But when it became apparent that he would need to remain for a much longer period, and they could do nothing to help, they had said their farewells, and taken their leave to return to Britain. They had been steadfast in their support from the start, though he knew it had been a struggle for Pansy- her parents had particularly anti-part-wizard, ferocious supporters of restricting Centaur rights- and being raised in that environment was hard to just shrug off, as he could relate. When he had returned to Britain they had drawn on their remaining resources and influence to help him get into Auror Training, and get resettled. He hadn't told them about the problems he was facing currently, too afraid they would immediately jump up to go to bat for him. All of them were trying to keep a low profile, as their parents’, and their own, actions were still hovering over them. They could not afford to draw negative attention to themselves at this point. Public opinion was still a shaky thing at best, both regarding those involved on the wrong side of The War, and towards Vampires. It seemed that his best option was to put his trust in Potter. He snorted silently to himself: that wasn’t a sentence he had ever thought to say at one point in his life, yet it was something he had continued to do ever since the Battle of Hogwarts. He put his trust in Harry every day he went out with him into the streets. And Harry had yet to let him down.

____

 

One extremely busy week later, and they were still occupied with their latest case, but Harry was getting increasingly more and more worried about Malfoy. He had passed on his line of inquiry to Ginny at their fortnightly lunch on Saturday, discreetly not mentioning any names or particulars, but had not yet heard anything back from her. In the mean time, Malfoy had not received any more deliveries, and was beginning to look quite frail. Not that Harry had dared to discuss the situation any more than confirming nothing had arrived: the one time he tried Malfoy had bitten his head off so sharply he hadn’t attempted it again. He would have to raise the subject again soon though, because their caseload was only getting heavier and more complicated.

“Malfoy?” he started tentatively. Malfoy was frowning at a map of London spread out on the wall, trying to see a connection or a pattern between the dealer points and supply points they had managed to identify so far. 

“Potter.” Clipped, short tones, not looking away from his study of the map.

Harry took a deep breath, before asking, “Malfoy, would it help if you bit me?”  
This was something he had been mulling over for the last week, in particular the last 3 days, as Malfoy seemed to grow weaker and weaker. That got Malfoy’s attention, at least, and he turned to look at Harry with slight shock. 

“No.” he said immediately and bluntly.

“No, it wouldn’t help?” Harry questioned, exasperated.

“No, you will not be doing that.”

“But, Malfoy-”

“The matter is closed, Potter.”

And so Malfoy persevered with his silence on the matter: Harry was shot down whenever he tried to bring the idea up again, much to his growing frustration. There were bags under Malfoy’s eyes now, and a growing yellow tinge to his skin. He lost concentration at times, and much as he tried to hide it, had very little physical energy. It was lucky that they were stuck inside at this point in the case, searching through old cases, references, and various reports from other teams, as Harry was unsure if Malfoy was up to any outside work anymore.

The next day, as they continued to work through their research at their desks, Harry looked up as their door opened and Pansy Parkinson swept in, bringing a breeze of lightly perfumed air into the stale air of the office.

“Draco, darling, I’m here to take you to lunch. I haven't seen you in weeks, and that is simply not acceptable. I know you're all caught up in your work, but I am sure you can take-,” she started, but paused as she got a good look at him, “Draco, what’s going on?”

Malfoy met her gaze calmly, “I’m fine, Pansy. I am merely a bit tired. As you can see we have a lot on our plate at the moment.” He indicated the piles of paper that swamped their desks, and some of the floor, as well as covered the walls of their office. As their cases were often confidential even to other Aurors, their office was charmed and warded so that no-one but themselves could read anything inside it, so Harry didn't worry about Pansy seeing something she shouldn't.

“Hogwash.” She said briskly. Harry couldn't read her as he had learnt to read Malfoy, but he thought she might be unnerved behind her poised mask. He couldn't blame her- he thought Malfoy looked bad, and he saw him every day. 

“Tell me what's happening,” She moved to fuss over him, and Malfoy bore it with stoic patience, but also with exhaustion.

“He’s not getting enough.” Harry broke in, when it became obvious Malfoy had not told her anything, and was not planning on breaking his silence. Pansy, who had hitherto ignored him, turned in his direction. Since Malfoy had become his partner, they had progressed to nodding politely in greeting to each other whenever she popped in, usually to take Malfoy out to lunch, but had otherwise not interacted. Apart from one painfully tense interaction at the start of the first month where she had apologised for her actions at the Battle, no actual words had been exchanged between them. 

“What do you know?” she demanded.

“Potter, don't.” Malfoy almost growled.

“You won’t let me do anything, maybe you’ll stop being stupid enough to let her.” Harry retorted, his anger and frustration at how helpless he had felt over the last few days coming out in his reply.

Pansy promptly Silenced Malfoy, her wand appearing in her hand, and turned back to face Harry, “Go ahead.”

Harry glanced briefly at Malfoy, he looked furious, but didn't move. He thought Pansy must have hit him with other spells as well.

“His deliveries are being tampered with. We are looking into it, but he’s not getting enough at the moment.” 

She looked at him steadily, he held her gaze, and wondered what she saw there. Then she turned abruptly round, “I will return, stay here,” she flicked her wand at Malfoy, releasing the spells as she went out the door. A hex hit the door as it closed, throwing orange sparks up. Malfoy stood fuming behind his desk, then turned his attention and his wand on Harry.

“You-”

Harry surreptitiously adjusted his grip on his own wand beneath his desk.

“You won't let me help you, fine. But you do need help, Malfoy. What if we are called to go out on a lead for this case? Or we need to assist other Aurors with a disturbance? You are barely coping sitting behind your desk.” He hissed, suddenly furious. 

“Scared of being cooped up with a Vampire, Potter?” The venom in Malfoy’s voice was half-hearted at best, and Harry could see he was swaying minutely.

“I offered to let you bite me, what do you think?” he retorted, “Now, sit down before you fall down, you idiot.” 

To his surprise and worry Malfoy did sit, half-collapsing back into his chair, and folded his head into his hands.

An hour later Pansy returned, shutting and locking the door behind her. She strode to Malfoy’s desk and dumped her handbag on top. Malfoy, who had not stirred since he sat down- in fact Harry had checked after half an hour that he was still breathing, though he wasn’t sure whether that would have told him anything- slowly raised his head. He seemed to have stopped pretending that he was fine. Harry hoped that Pansy had found something to help, as that worried him most of all. 

Pansy extracted a dark burgundy-coloured bag from the depths of her handbag and held it out to Malfoy expectantly. It dimpled under the pressure of her hand. It wasn’t burgundy coloured, Harry realised, the contents were. He felt slightly nauseous. 

“Pansy!” Malfoy hissed, regaining some of his energy, “You can’t just waltz into the Ministry with that in your handbag.”

“I think you’ll find, Draco, that I just did. Please stop your quibbling and take it.”

Malfoy glanced towards Harry, who was doing his best to blend into his desk, and be unobtrusive. Pansy followed his glance, and eyed Harry with calm certainty.

“Potter’s not going to say anything.” She smiled at him. It was possibly the most terrifying moment of his life. He managed to nod at her and pretended to return to his paperwork.

Malfoy eyed Pansy and then the bag, and sighed. 

“Do I _want_ to know where you got this?”

“No, you do not.” She smiled calmly, but with steel underneath. Malfoy reached out and took the bag.

“Some privacy?”

Harry quickly stared down at the surface of his desk, and tried his best not to listen. The words of the report he had been reading from the wider Auror team swam before his eyes. 

“Your thanks and praise are noted.” Pansy spoke haughtily after a few minutes, “You are excused from lunch, just this once. I expect you to be ready at 1 o’clock tomorrow to take me to Madame Fioretti’s.”

Harry looked up again, and saw Pansy’s hand was on Malfoy’s cheek, which was regaining its colour. 

“Take care of yourself, darling.” She murmured, before removing her hand and departing, shutting the door behind her with an air of satisfaction. Malfoy incinerated the deflated remains of the bag on his desk, which curled briefly up into wisps of grey smoke. The bags under his eyes had already lessoned and there was a contented air about him that had been missing for most of the past week. Harry felt a knot he hadn’t even realised had been in his chest loosen suddenly with relief.

“Don’t make me go through that again.” He found himself saying, suddenly. “If you won’t go to the Council, you need to let me help you.”

“Potter, we have already discussed this.”

“No, we didn’t discuss it, _you_ decided.”

“Potter-”

“I know what I am offering you, okay?”

“Potter, I certainly hope you know what you are offering when you proffer your wrists to vampires.” He drawled, “One shouldn’t go around making dangerous offers like that without knowing the consequences.”

Harry shook his head furiously, “not _vampires_ , you idiot: _you_. I’m not offering random vampires anything. I’m offering _you_ a chance to get what you need, and you are too self-sacr-“

“Potter, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I’ve done my research! Don’t you _dare_ infer that I am just jumping in blindly to…”

“…save the day? Rescue the poor hungry vampire in distress?” Malfoy offered sarcastically. 

“You are my friend. I want to help.” Harry said simply, “That’s all it is. Draco, I’m not doing this to be the hero. You know that.”

Malfoy rubbed his temple and turned back to his paperwork. He stared at the pile in front of him; Harry continued to stare at him, hoping he wasn’t just going to ignore the issue again. That the intervention from Parkinson had brought home to him the seriousness of the situation.

“Look…”

“No.”

“Draco.”

“No, Potter.”

“Would you please stop being so stubborn and let me help you?”

They stared at each other for several long moments before Malfoy broke the stalemate and looked down, sighing.

“Next time.”

“What?”

“You win, Potter. Next time my delivery runs late I will…take you up on your offer.”

“Draco-”

“Do your paperwork, Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting faster and more confident! (And longer) Also, I am on holiday now, so I should have more time to write (though we all know it never really works that way)  
> As always, feedback and constructive criticism welcome.


	4. a bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both cases, and life, progress. Malfoy succumbs to the inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but I got myself all tangled up in a couple of plotholes I had been putting off solving, that really needed to be dealt with before I could keep going. However, this is the longest chapter so far, (it's over 3000 words!), and it contains what we probably have all been waiting for..., so hopefully that makes up for it. Enjoy!

Ginny smiled as Harry slipped into the seat opposite her, already making apologies. 

“Sorry, sorry. Something came up at work, and I had to go in this morning. And then of course _since you’re here anyway, Potter, let’s…_ ”

“It’s Saturday, Harry.” Ginny shook her head, but she was smiling. 

“I know, I know, but we are working on a big case right now, and we just made a breakthrough. Did you already order?”

“Not yet.”

Harry and Ginny had dated on and off after The War, whilst Ginny finished her 6th and 7th year combined into one at Hogwarts. None of the Trio had ended up returning to Hogwarts as students. Ron and Harry had volunteered as part of the work force to fix Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, and Hermione had bullied them into also studying for and sitting their N.E.W.T.s at the end of the year. Hermione had completed her 7th year by correspondence course- organised through Professor McGonagall, now Headmistress- whilst also starting her Magical Law course at the same time. But when Ginny had graduated and departed on her year of travel, they had already come to the mutual conclusion that they were better off as friends. Ginny had become one of his best friends, in a different way than Ron and Hermione were, but no less important. These days they met up for lunch together every 2nd Saturday, both of their schedules permitting. 

“So, tell me about what’s been happening?” Harry asked once they’d ordered, leaning forward across the table.

Ginny regaled him with tales of her colleagues at work, and about the antics of her elderly pygmy puff, Arnold, who had a rather distressing tendency to find his way into the oven, before fixing him with a stern look over their recently arrived meals.

“Was the information helpful?”

Harry put down his fork, and reached for his wand, but Ginny stopped him with a motion.

“Don’t worry, I cast Muffliato when I arrived.”

“Thanks,” he smiled, “And, yes, it was. We took it to the Head of the Auror Department, Gawain Robards, yesterday once we’d finished putting it together with our own information.”

A letter from Ginny with the information she had found out at Harry’s request two weeks ago, had arrived a few days ago- not long after Pansy had supplied Malfoy with blood- and Harry and Malfoy had been taking every spare moment they had, few and far between, to cross-reference the letter with Malfoy’s experiences, and try to form a working theory, before they took it higher.

“He recommended letting him follow up some of his own leads, and form a plan of action, before we present it all to the Council. We want to keep it away from the wider Ministry in case there’s some corruption there instead of just incompetence. We don't want to give them a heads up to hide evidence either way. So more meetings, and planning, on top of this case we’ve been working on for the last 5 months, that seems to be coming to a head.”

Harry ran a tired hand through his hair, and tried to keep his exhaustion from showing too much. Long, and overtime, hours on their most current case, mixed with all the extra work on this side case, over the last two weeks were taking its toll on him. Malfoy was faring just as badly- he may be a Vampire with less of a need for sleep, but he was also running on low batteries at this point in time, with all his missed feedings.

“So, how’s Malfoy holding up?”

Harry fixed her with a blank look, “With the case?”

“Don’t play the fool, Harry.” She laughed, “you were never any good at it. I can't imagine it serves you well as an Auror. You’ve been asking for all of this information about vampires, and it’s not just for this case. I do have access to the records at my job, I know he’s one. So, is he the one this side case is about, or just who was contacted about it?”

Harry eyed her ruefully, “You are too clever for your own good, you know. It’s him that it’s happening to. I am sure I don't have to tell you to keep this to yourself.”

“Of course. I am under strict non-disclosure acts for my work anyway. I only mentioned it because as his partner you would have to know. In fact, the whole department, plus some higher-ups at the Ministry would need to be aware, wouldn’t they?”

“Yes, but under a Secrecy Oath, so they can’t spread the information. So, you think it’s a solo operator?” Harry asked, fiddling with his fork. 

“All the information points that way,” Ginny agrees, “And one who is likely fixated on Malfoy. There have been a few isolated cases, and reports of blood deliveries being late, over the years, but nothing to the extent that you say is happening here. If there is a wider motive here to target all Vampires, Malfoy is likely a test case, and either way has probably been targeted due to his family, or involvement in the War.”

“That makes sense.” Harry agreed.

“So, Robards will add his own results and then you’ll go to the Council together. How long do you think that will take?” 

“As I said, we’re flat out at the moment, and Robards will also have to wait for his inquiries to be returned. A week, maybe two? I hope it won't take too long. You didn’t see him last week, when there was no delivery at all.” Harry made a face, “To be honest, I was really worried about him. I still am- whoever is doing this is steadily escalating the amount of interference.”

“And Malfoy hasn’t gone to the Council directly?” Ginny inquired, puzzled.

“No, he’s insisting on not going to them; it was all I could do to convince him to present to case to Robards. It has to go through the Council at some point. It concerns a vampire, and the Treaty, they have to be involved. But, at the moment he won’t budge.” Harry sighed, and pushed the remnants of his meal around the plate, “Anyway, thank you for your help on this, Ginny. We really appreciate it.”

“Of course. It was no trouble. And if someone is doing this deliberately, you know I would want to help stop them. Reminds you of old times, doesn’t it? Sneaking around the establishment to solve injustice.” She grinned at him, and he grinned back. 

As the waiter took away their plates, and brought out a pot of tea and a plate of cakes, Harry sat back in his seat and regarded Ginny with mischief in his eyes.

“Now, enough heavy stuff. How’s your love life?”  
__________

About two weeks later Harry entered their office after a meeting with the Head of the Auror Department, Gawain Robards, and closed the door behind him, flicking a quick privacy charm at it before he turned around to look at Malfoy, who had proceeded him into the office.

“When?”

“Potter, what are you on about now?” The words lacked Malfoy’s usual bite, an exhausted edge smoothing off the sharp edges. Harry found that worried him more than the blue circles under his eyes.

“When was the last delivery, Malfoy?” That got him to look up at Harry for the first time.

“Potter-”

“Draco. _When?_ ”

Malfoy dropped his gaze back down to his desk, “Last Monday.”

Harry blinked in shock, “But that’s nearly two weeks ago! How-”

“When I have been getting my delivery the last month I’ve been keeping one back for the weeks I haven’t.” Malfoy said simply.

Harry clenched his fists, “That’s not healthy.”

“Don’t you think I know that, Potter? It’s not like I have a choice, is it? Either I can manage on two a week, so as to survive on one when the delivery doesn’t come, or I can go from three a week to nothing! Which do you think is more dangerous, Potter, because neither is healthy, I can tell you. Pansy can’t risk-” He stopped abruptly.

Harry sighed, “And Pansy can’t risk helping you too often without endangering herself.”

Silence.

“I’m not angry that she helps you. I don’t want to think about how she acquires what she does, but I don’t care if it’s illegal or not, Malfoy. I’m glad that she can do that for you.”

“That’s not what it seemed like last time.”

“I just want you to let me help you as well.” Harry pushed off from the door and approached the desk. “Look, Malfoy, at some point we will most likely end up in a situation when you will need to take my blood. Wouldn't it be better, and _safer_ , to have taken my blood before? In a secure environment when we are not in any danger? I’m your partner, I want to help, and I am available and convenient. It’s freely and willing offered. Malfoy, let me do this for you, please.”

Harry didn’t know why it was so important for him that he do this- Malfoy would say it was his “hero complex”, in fact his friends would probably say the same thing. Once Ron had stopped swearing anyway. He stopped in front of Malfoy’s desk, and waited. There was no sense in saying anything else. Anything more would just push Malfoy too much, he knew, and he’d stop listening. It was better to wait in silence for him to process and come to a decision on his own. Six months of being partners had taught him a lot about how to deal with Malfoy. Pushing further would make this an argument again, which Malfoy’s pride would refuse to let him capitulate to. Stopping here made it an offer, a suggestion, which Malfoy could then choose to accept or not. This strategy had a 60/40 success rate, Harry had found, but most of the 40 percent Malfoy would never have agreed to anyway (Harry would never tell him, but most of the time he was usually right not to agree in those cases.)

Malfoy looked at him for a long time, and Harry thought he could read a change in Malfoy’s expression that made him think he was seriously considering Harry’s offer for the first time. He had no doubts about the fact that Malfoy had simply said yes last time to get him to stop offering, without any intention of actually taking him up on it. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” he murmured quietly, meeting Harry’s eyes.

“You have met me, haven’t you?” he smiled, and Malfoy smiled wryly back.

“Yes, I have. I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised, really. Fine. I accept.”

Relief flooded through him. 

“Thank you.”

“I think I am the one who is supposed to be thanking you, Harry. What are you doing?”

Harry looked up from rolling up his left sleeve, puzzled. “You said yes.”

“Now? At the Ministry?”

“Yes, now. Nearly two weeks, Draco, I’m not risking you falling down on the job any longer.” He resumed rolling up his sleeve. He was not going to let this go on any longer, now he had got Malfoy to agree. Knowing him, he’d find some way to wriggle out of it, or keep putting it off. And if not at the Ministry, where? He wondered. They were good workmates and partners now, but they didn’t really hang out after work, and he couldn’t see Malfoy inviting him over, Harry mentally snorted, for a _bite_. 

“Oh, so that’s what this is about, is it?”

“Malfoy, no. Not like that. Just.” Harry despaired.

“Fine, I can see I will get no respite from you until we try this. Retrieve your chair and sit.”

“Sit?”

“It would be ill advised to stand during this, Potter. Bring over some water as well. I suppose you have some food somewhere?"

“When you donate blood they give you a cookie.”

Malfoy just looked at him in puzzlement.

“Ah, I suppose it doesn’t happen in the Wizarding World. Well, Muggles don’t have Blood Replenishing Potions, so they donate amounts of their blood to be stored for use when someone has lost lots of blood. Well, not everyone does, but it is encouraged. And they give you a cookie afterwards, for your blood sugar.”

“I see…. Well, a small amount of food after this would be a good idea, Potter.”

“I believe my point was that you should be supplying me with the food.” Harry muttered amused, going over to his desk, “Hey, does it matter what blood type I am?”

“Excuse me?”

“My blood type. I just thought, will it matter?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Potter, so I suspect not.”

Harry rummaged in his desk drawer and pulled out a muesli bar from the depths, grabbed his water bottle and dragged his chair over to Malfoy’s side of the room.

“Where should I sit?”

“Sit opposite me, with the desk between us. Start drinking some water. If we are going to do this, I have a few conditions. Non-negotiable.” He added, as Harry opened his mouth in protest, “These are precautions for your safety, and I will not do this unless you agree.”

Harry sat down on the newly positioned chair, placing his water and snack on Malfoy’s impeccably organised desk, “I’m listening.”

“Wand out and pointed at me at all times.”

“Malfoy.”

“Non-negotiable, Potter.” Catching his eyes and holding contact until Harry finally nodded reluctantly. Malfoy continued, “Set a timer for 2 and a half minutes, and another for 15 seconds after.”

A flick of Harry’s wand produced floating blue numbers above the desk, glowing faintly in the dim room.

“If at any point during this you want to stop- you change your mind, something happens, you’re not feeling right- say so and we do. At any point, Potter, I don’t care if we have started. Start the timers when I- bite down, and I shall endeavour to stop after at the first timer. Roughly I should be taking under 300ml, which is my normal intake. If I haven’t, tell me to stop clearly.” He nodded towards the glowing numbers, “If I haven’t responded, or stopped after 15 seconds, Stun me. Three in quick succession should do it.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue again, but Malfoy beat him to it.

“Promise me, Harry.”

“I promise.”

“Thank you.”

Harry extended his left arm, sleeve still rolled up, across the desk, parallel to his wand arm, pointing at Malfoy. “Let’s do this.”

Malfoy gently took his wrist with his right hand, then looked up, amusement in his grey eyes. “You will have to move a bit closer to enable me to reach properly.”

“Oh, okay.” The screech of the chair against the floorboards made him wince in anticipation of Malfoy’s disapproving look, and when he looked up he was not disappointed, “Sorry.”

Malfoy raised Harry’s wrist, and stopped when the muscles tensed up.

“Sorry. Keep going.” Harry smiled ruefully.

“Harry.”

“No, really, keep going.”

Malfoy eyed him suspiciously, but raised his wrist again. Harry was suddenly very aware of his breathing, and concentrated on keeping it as steady as he could. In the corner of his peripheral vision he could see his wand hand trembling slightly. Okay, so maybe he was a little bit nervous about this.

There was a sharp hot pain in his wrist as Malfoy bit down, and he inhaled sharply, and hopefully inaudibly, and somehow managed to flick both timers on, in a startlingly feat of remembrance and coordination. After the initial flash of pain his wrist felt numb and odd, but not as bad as he had feared. He concentrated on keeping his breathing steady and calm, and distracted himself by staring at the dust motes swirling in the artificial light from the ceiling. It was actually sort of relaxing, he mused a little muzzily. He was starting to feel a touch light-headed, like when you stood up too quickly and your head swam in response.

The timer going off broke the spell that seemed to hover in the office. Malfoy drew back slowly, and two beads of blood pooled on the surface of Harry’s wrist. Harry dismissed both timers with a wave of his wand, his gaze drawn to his wrist, strangely fascinated by the bright red drops. 

“Drink and eat.” Malfoy ordered shortly. He was still holding Harry’s arm in a tight grip, and he licked his thumb and rubbed it firmly but briskly over the punctures. He repeated this gesture again, as Harry stared, and the punctures began to shrink and fade. He looked up and saw Harry staring. 

“Drink and eat, Potter; I don’t like repeating myself.”

Harry grabbed his water bottle off Malfoy’s desk and took a swig, slightly clumsily. He was buzzing, much like the aftermath of a battle, or the comedown after a Quidditch match. 

“Vampire saliva contains an agent that encourages healing, and slows blood flow.” Malfoy explained as he released Harry’s wrist after repeating the motion a third time. It was completely unblemished, as if nothing had happened. 

“I wouldn’t try standing up for a few more minutes.” He paused, and then patted Harry’s shoulder awkwardly as he stood and passed by him. “Thank you,” He muttered softly.

It was nice, Harry discovered as he slowly ate the muesli bar, to look at the renewed energy as Malfoy bustled about the office, and know that he had done that. He had put that colour back in Malfoy’s skin.

“So, will you let me do this again?” He asked, from his seat, still in front of Malfoy’s desk.

“You’d let me do that again? I can't imagine it was pleasant.” Malfoy seemed puzzled, turning to look him from the other side of the room. He had been keeping his distance, since he had let go of Harry’s wrist.

“It wasn’t the best thing I’ve ever experienced.” Harry admitted, “but it wasn’t particularly unpleasant, or painful. And the payoff was definitely worth it.”

“Emergency situations only, Potter.” Malfoy finally bargained, after looking at him thoughtfully.

“Okay.” Harry smiled in satisfaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, constructive criticism and feedback welcome. I would love to hear from you.


	5. to discover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of the bite, and everything happens at once.

Before his mishap last month, he hadn’t drunk directly from a living person since his seclusion in France, and he’d been so delirious with hunger and instinct the memory was indistinct. The difference from drinking bagged blood was vast. The spiciness of the blood, the pressure as it rushed out of the veins, the heat that could never be properly replicated in the same way with Heating Charms, the heartbeat entwined underneath it all. To Malfoy, the best way to describe it was as the difference between old stale spices from the back of a cupboard, and freshly picked, freshly ground spices. The sharpness of peppermint, Potter’s magic, had been almost overwhelming- so much stronger than even the donors in France. Crushed handfuls of freshly picked mint leaves: compared to a scattered few, and the dried dusty mint aftertaste the blood supply had. Malfoy wasn’t entirely sure what the process consisted of in detail, but he knew that the supply was made up of a small amount of donated blood, that was then combined in some complicated process with a specially developed form of Blood Replenishing Potion to create vast quantities, in order to cope with the demands of the British Vampire population. Only traces were usually left in the blood by the time it made its way to him-magic faded away from the blood back to the owner quickly once donated, rather than when taken directly, and was then further diluted by the replenishing process.

He’d been terrified the first time he’d bitten a person. It hadn’t happened until more than 3 months after he’d been bitten, and after he’d been able to prove himself to have control around humans first. Biting Potter had brought him back to that moment, the calm voice of his mentor running through his head, listing the rules and guidelines of blood giving. He’d fallen back on the familiar process to calm his own turmoil, and everything had come sharply into focus when Potter had flinched, the first sensible reaction he had, the first time his wrist was raised to Malfoy’s fangs. Despite the overwhelming sensation of drinking living blood, when half-starved no less, he managed to maintain an iron grip on his control, and stop when the timer went off. The blood welling up as he withdrew had been a tempting sight, and he dearly wanted to lick it off the skin of Harry’s wrist, bite in again, and take more of the warm, red, liquid. But he’d resisted, and only used his thumb to rub saliva on the wounds he’d left behind. Then he’d gotten as far away from Harry as he could within their tiny office, and stared at their map of London until he felt he could trust himself to move. Even then he busied himself with meaningless tasks around the office, with renewed energy surging inside him, as Harry recovered in front of his desk. He could still taste Harry’s blood lingering in his mouth as he reeled from Harry as he stated his continued permission to be bitten. 

__

Less than a week later Robards’ informants had come back with a name, and things had moved extremely quickly after that. With Robards’ support behind them, he and Malfoy were sent off with an arrest warrant, and request for the Council to convene, respectively. There had been a quick preliminary hearing after the arrest to determine the basics of the case, and sort out Malfoy’s supply needs. Robards had personally headed the investigation into the Ministry’s negligence. 

Harry had led the team that went to arrest the culprit- an obsessive anti-vampireist, who had lost a relative in the 2nd War. Like Harry and Ginny had theorised, Malfoy had been his test case, before he planned to try and take out all of England’s vampires. It hadn't been a very well-thought out plan; only Malfoy’s stubbornness had meant his plan had worked for a longer period of time than it should have. It made Harry shudder to think what Malfoy’s stupid pride might have resulted in. If he hadn’t lost control and bitten someone in front of Harry, he might not have found out until the day Malfoy didn't turn up for work. Or worse, until he lost control in front of someone else who would have taken matters into their own hands. The man had befriended an ex-employee from when the company had first been contracted by the Ministry, one who had eventually left in disgust, and had been able to get the necessary information to get access to records. 

Aside from the initial arrest, neither Harry nor Malfoy were allowed to take any further part in the investigation, as they were personally involved, and required to provide evidence and witness statements. They were also swamped with their drug ring case. Two days after the arrest, knowledge of a major meeting within the drug ring that would take place within the week, had been uncovered. Harry and Malfoy were swept off their feet as they frantically leant on their other sources for as much information as possible, without tipping anyone off. Gathering, and compiling all the information they had already gathered over the last two months; briefing their wider Auror Team, and the handful of Aurors brought in from the usual forces to provide back-up and wands on the ground.

Their wider Auror Team comprises of two other pairs from the “Investigator” Aurors. Deidre Robbins, who goes by Robbins due to a dislike of her first name, and Robert Wickman, who also goes by his last name to avoid confusion between their names, after refusing to be called Bert. With 4 and 5 years’ experience respectively, they are a slightly higher rank than Harry. He likes and respects both of them, but hasn’t worked with them since Ron left and Malfoy became his partner.

The second pair, Janice Knight and Anita Persaud, are the most experienced of the team with 7 and 8 years’ experience each. They’re in their early 30s, and 40s- compared with Harry and Malfoy’s 23 years of age, and Robbins and Wickman both being close to 30. Harry and Ron never really worked with them in their time, as there was never a case that needed all three pairs involved. They tended to assist Robbins and Wickman in their cases, who would respectively assist Aurors Knight and Persaud. A month after Malfoy joined, he and Harry tagged along on one of their cases as extra bodies, and it was clear that Auror Knight was uncomfortable with the fact that Malfoy was a vampire. 

In addition, Ron is called in in his new consultancy role, and he and Malfoy even manage to be mildly civil to one another-mostly by keeping interaction to a minimum. Between the seven of them, and in meetings with Robards, they hash out a plan of attack, then brief their “wands on the ground”. 

Amongst all of this chaos, they’re also called in to give their initial testimony as witness, and injured party. Trial proceedings had kicked off with speed, and follow-up investigations were commencing. The Council had leaned heavily on the Ministry when the case had been brought to light, and the Ministry, terrified of the possible negligence charges and breach of Treaty consequences, had placed the force of their people behind the case, and taken it to the top of the queue. 

As a consequence, there was no time left for Harry to muse on the experience of being bitten, and his feelings about Malfoy no longer needing to bite him, with his supply restored. It was somewhat of a relief not to look too closely at these feelings anyway, as he was somewhat suspicious that he might find disappointment hidden there.

__

“Merlin’s Balls!” Harry hurried over to Malfoy’s side as he lay slumped against the wall. The hex he had taken had sliced open the flesh all along his side, and his shirt was half soaked in blood. Harry idly noticed that it was the same colour as it had been when they had had their ill-fated encounter in 6th year, and Harry had used Sectumsempra. It wasn’t something he had given any thought about, but somehow he had been expecting a change in the colour. The severity of the wound reflected that day as well, and Malfoy looked even paler. Harry cast a Shield Charm around their corner, and knelt to look closer at the wound, carefully peeling the remnants of the slashed shirt out of the way, whilst working around Malfoy’s hands which were clamped over as much of the gaping wound as they could manage. The battle was pretty much over, with groups of stunned and restrained prisoners being gathered together, and searched, before transport back to the Ministry, but it would be a mistake to drop his guard. There could well be someone who had slipped through the cracks, and might take advantage of his distraction, and Malfoy’s injury, to do further harm.

The hex had caused a lot of damage, a modified Slicing Charm by the look of it- it was deep, very deep, and had slashed its way from just under Draco’s right arm, vertically down his chest to just above his belt line. Harry started to mutter some of the charms Hermione had taught him when they were on the run- similar to those Snape had used to knit Draco’s flesh back together on the bathroom floor. 

“Just hang on, I’ll get you patched up enough to get you back to the Ministry Healers. Or to last until we can get a team out here.”

Malfoy was taking deep, shallow breaths, hands still clutching at the wound. It was knitting together very slowly, not fast enough for Harry’s liking, and a lot of blood had been lost. Another pair of Aurors finished securing the four men who had been subdued as they attempted to flee the building-one of whom had injured Malfoy-and Robbins approached their corner to check on them.

“Requesting a MediWizard team. I’m trying to stabilise Malfoy, but he’s lost a lot of blood, and I’m not sure if I can move him safely.”

“Right away, Harry. We’ll send one down when we take these prisoners outside. Want Wickman to stay?”

“No, I’ve got it. You’ll need the both of you to take that lot.”

“We’ll send someone down as soon as we can.” Robbins promised. They left with the prisoners, and Harry resumed his attempts to heal the wound. 

“Potter.” 

Harry ignored the muttered remonstration from between Malfoy’s clenched teeth.

“Potter, it's not working.”

“A Healer’s on the way. Just stay with me, okay?”

The blood was still persistently seeping from the wound, despite his efforts to seal the edges together.

“I thought you were a vampire, Malfoy, a little injury like this shouldn't keep you down.” He tried unsuccessfully to lighten the mood.

“There’s too much blood lost… and I’m still recovering.” Malfoy hissed and tried to tighten his hands on his side. 

“Bite me again.” Harry said suddenly, “Bite me again, Malfoy, you don't have to take much, just enough to stem the blood loss until the Healer gets here.”

“Potter.”

“You said emergency situations, I think this qualifies!” Harry unbuttoned his cuff and shoved his sleeve up, frantically offering his arm to Malfoy.

“Cast something to stop the Healer noticing if they turn up unexpectedly.” Malfoy capitulated.

Harry wove a mild Confusion Charm into his existing Shield Charm and moved to kneel on Malfoy’s left side, slipping his right arm behind Malfoy’s head, his left wrist still hovering at head level. He brought it in to rest in reach of Malfoy’s mouth, so he didn't have to stop stemming the flow of blood with his hands.

“Okay. Go for it.”

Once again Malfoy’s fangs sank into his wrist. He was expecting the flash of pain this time and had braced for it. The numb feeling started to tingle through, and he sagged against the wall to his side, grateful for it, and the position he was in. 

Malfoy didn't take as much as he had last time, and a short amount of time after he had pulled away and closed the puncture holes, Harry’s hearing caught the sound of approaching hurried footsteps. Malfoy with his heightened senses must have caught them before him. He slipped his arm from behind Malfoy’s head gently, and broke his Confusion Charm, as he knelt again and looked at the bleeding, which appeared to have stopped, or at least slowed significantly.

“Over here.” He called, as the footsteps came closer, and a pair of Healers, accompanied by Wickman, rounded the corner and headed towards them. He countered his Shield Charm and stood up to get out of their way. Wickman and he let the Healers do their job, and did theirs, keeping an eye out for any disturbances or dangers, and guarding them as they Hovered Malfoy out of the building for further treatment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while. Updates will probably continue to be slow, as this is where I didn't have much pre-written. I may regret posting this at 1:30am, and not waiting until morning to proofread one last time. As always, comments and constructive criticism greatly appreciated (particularly if you spot any errors I missed in my sleep-deprived posting).


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